Category Archives: Cecil Day-Lewis

I Bet You Set Me Up to Fall*

You’d think that someone who hired a PI or got the police involved in an investigation would want the mystery solved. But that’s not always the case – at least not fictionally. There are plenty of novels and stories in which a PI is hired either by the killer, or by someone who actively wants the PI to fail. There are others in which a police detective is assigned to a case with the hope/expectation that it won’t be solved.

Sometimes this happens because the guilty person wants to keep tabs on the investigation, or hopes to sabotage it by manipulating the sleuth. Sometimes it’s because a police ‘rubber stamp’ is needed to cover up corruption or worse. There are other reasons, too.

Whatever the motivation, it’s tricky to pull such a story off, because it can stretch credibility. But if it’s done carefully, such a plot point can be suspenseful as well as intriguing. And, for readers who like to ‘match wits’ against the author, it can provide a very engaging ‘match.’

A few of Agatha Christie’s novels and stories include this plot point. I won’t give titles, or even sleuths, in order to avoid spoilers. Suffice it to say that, just because a person asks one of her sleuths to solve a case, or wants a name cleared, doesn’t mean that person really wants that to happen. Sometimes the very person who does the hiring (or requesting) is the guilty one.

As Nicholas Blake, Cecil Day-Lewis wrote a long-running (1935-1968) crime fiction series featuring a poet, Nigel Strangeways, who is also a PI. Strangeways is a reflective sort of person, who considers many different possibilities when he’s on the case. And that’s a good thing, because he’s learned not to trust everyone who asks him to get involved in an investigation. Again, I won’t get more detailed because of spoilers. But Strangeways has learned the value of suspecting everyone.

One of the interesting sorts of crime plots happens when a police detective is, if you will, set up to fail – or at least to help convict the wrong person. In Isaac Asimov’s The Caves of Steel, for instance, we are introduced to New York homicide detective Elijah ‘Lije’ Baley. In the futuristic New York where he lives, the population is basically divided between Spacers and Earthmen. Spacers are the descendants of humans who explored space and then returned. They’ve embraced the idea of space travel. Earthmen, on the other hand, are the descendants of humans who remained behind, and who believe that humans will survive best if they remain on Earth. Among the many differences between the two groups is that Spacer society includes positronic robots. Earthmen hate and fear them. When noted Spacer scientist Dr. Roj Nemennuh Sarton is murdered, it’s believed that an Earthman was responsible. In order to make the investigation as balanced and transparent as possible, Baley (who is an Earthman) is assigned to investigate. He’s given a Spacer partner, R. Daneel Olivaw, who is a positronic robot. Together, the two begin to look into the matter. They find out who killed Sarton and why, but readers also learn that someone far up on the police ‘food chain’ didn’t want them to find out the truth…

That also happens in Qiu Xiaolong’s Death of a Red Heroine. In that novel, Shanghai Inspector Chen Cao and his assistant, Detective Yu Guangming, investigate the murder of a young woman named Guan Hongying. The victim was a national model worker, and for that reason, somewhat of a celebrity. That’s reason enough to be very careful about investigating her murder. It complicates matters that she moved in some high Party circles, too, so some important people could be involved in her death. Chen and Yu begin to trace the victim’s last days and weeks, and it soon comes out that she took a taxi ride not long before she was killed. Now that the taxi driver is a possible suspect, Party officials want the investigation stopped. So, the message comes down that the taxi driver is the killer, and that’s what needs to be on the report. Chen and Yu aren’t convinced, though, and continue looking for the truth. But some very important people do their best to ensure that this case isn’t going to be really solved. On the surface, it seems that the police brass and government are endorsing the investigation. But underneath, the exact opposite is happening.

William Ryan’s Captain Alexei Korolev of the Moscow CID faces a related situation in The Twelfth Department, which takes place just before World War II. In that novel, Korolev and his assistant, Sergeant Nadezdha Slivka, are assigned to investigate the murder of noted scientist Boris Azarov. The two sleuths follow the leads and settle on a suspect. Then, that suspect is murdered. Now, they have to start again. This case is especially delicate because Azarov was working on a top-secret government project, and the NKVD has an interest in it. Another possible suspect in both murders comes to light, and Korolev and Slivka are more or less instructed to identify that suspect as the guilty party and consider the case closed. But both of them believe that person’s been set up. Together, they decide to keep investigating, and it’s soon clear that some very important people do not want the truth about this case to come out. At the same time as Korolev and Slivka have been assigned to the case, they’re also being hampered.

Fictional characters can have several reasons for hiring a PI even if they’re the killers. Fictional police detectives can be assigned to cases by the very people who have the most to lose if they’re solved. That plot point isn’t easy to do well. But in deft hands, it can be very suspenseful.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Rasmus’ Dangerous Kind.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Cecil Day-Lewis, Isaac Asimov, Nicholas Blake, Qiu Xiaolong, William Ryan

They Say He’s Got to Go*

monstersOne of the most enduring plot types in any sort of writing is what I’ll call overcoming the monster. One example, for instance is the story of Beowulf and the monster called the Grendel. Of course, you don’t have to go back that far to find stories where protagonists have to overcome monsters.

If you think of monsters in the figurative sense, there are a lot of instances of this sort of plot in crime fiction. By the way, you’ll notice as this post goes on that there won’t be any instances of ‘crazed serial killer’ plots. Too easy.

In Cecil Day-Lewis/Nicholas Blake’s The Beast Must Die, we are introduced to Frank Cairnes, a detective novelist who writes under the name of Felix Lane. Six months before the events of the story, his son Martin ‘Martie’ was killed in a hit-and-run incident, and he’s been inconsolable since then. His grief has driven him to the point where, as he puts it,
 

‘I am going to kill a man.’
 

He’s referring, of course, to the man who killed his son. And he regards that person as a kind of monster. He sets out to find the identity of the driver, and put an end to him. Cairnes moves to the town where he and Martie were living at the time of the boy’s death, and starts his sleuthing. He finds out that the driver of the car was likely a man named George Rattery. With that information, Cairnes wangles his way into the Rattery household and looks for an opportunity to kill the man. He gets his chance one afternoon when he and Rattery go sailing together. But, as it turns out, Rattery has found Cairnes’ diary, and knew about the plot to kill him. As he tells Cairnes, if anything happens to him, the police will immediately suspect Cairnes. That’s exactly what happens when, later that afternoon, Rattery dies of poison. Cairnes seeks out poet and amateur sleuth Nigel Strangeways, and asks for his help. He claims that he’s innocent (after all, why would he have planned to poison Rattery when he was going to push him overboard?) and Strangeways goes to work finding out who the real killer was. In this case, Cairnes’ grief has made him think of Rattery as a monster.

Sometimes, the monster that characters seek to overcome is in themselves (perhaps that’s another blog topic in itself…). In Jim Thompson’s The Killer Inside Me, for instance, we meet Lou Ford, deputy sheriff of Central City, Texas. He’s a quiet sort of man, a little on the ‘plodding’ side, but not stupid. He investigates when a local prostitute, Joyce Lakeland, is viciously beaten. While he’s working on that case, there’s a murder. Now it’s clear that something is going on in Central City. And all along, what people don’t know about Ford is that he’s hiding something he calls ‘the sickness’ – something he tries to overcome. And that ‘sickness’ plays its role in the story.

Sulari Gentill’s A Few Right Thinking Men features her sleuth, artist Rowland ‘Rowly’ Sinclair. The story takes place in 1932 in New South Wales. It’s a time of great hardship, with the worldwide Great Depression hitting everyone very hard. Siinclair’s family is relatively safe, as they’re wealthy and powerful. But that doesn’t mean they’re safe from tragedy. When Sinclair’s uncle, also named Rowland, is murdered one night, Inspector Biquit and his team investigate. Slowly, Sinclair comes to suspect that his uncle’s killers might be members of the New Guard, a far-right group led by Colonel Eric Campbell. The group’s aim is to stamp out all liberal and left-wing thinking, and establish a new government in Australia, that will protect the current class system, and re-establish very traditional ways of life. The more Sinclair learns about the New Guard, the more dangerous he finds them to be. In fact, they’re already plotting against New South Wales’ government, and the rest of the country will likely not be far behind. As Sinclair and his friends try to find out who murdered his uncle, they also have to work to prevent the New Guard, and Campbell, from succeeding. In this case, it’s a dangerous political group that’s seen as a sort of monster that must be stopped.

Most children are no strangers to the concept of a monster and the desire to overcome it. And for some children, it’s all too real. For instance, in Honey Brown’s Through the Cracks, fourteen-year-old Adam Vander finally works up the courage to escape his abusive father, Joe. He’s always thought of Joe as a kind of monster, and with good reason. But until now, he’s always been too small and too frightened to leave. When he finally does, he meets Billy Benson, a young man who happens to be at the house when Adam makes his escape. The two spend the next week together, and form a sort of friendship. They learn, too, that they are connected in ways they’re not really comfortable discussing, but that are undeniable. And it all stems from a past incident. Still, they work together, and face real danger as the week goes on, and in the end, there’s a sense of resolution. Several parts of the story are told from Adam’s perspective, so we see how he regards Joe. It’s not exactly like Beowulf trying to defeat the Grendel, but there’s a very similar sort of sentiment.

And then there’s Jean-Denis Bruet-Ferreol’s The Cemetery of Swallows. That novel begins as Manuel Gemoni travels from France to the Dominican Republic. There, he kills a Dominican citizen named Tobias Darbier. There’s no doubt that Gemoni is the killer, but what’s missing is a motive. All he says about it is that he killed Darbier,
 

‘‘…because he had killed me.’’
 

Gemoni has been badly injured, so Police Commissioner Amédée Mallock of the Paris CID is sent to the Dominican Republic to bring Gemoni back to France as soon as his condition allows. When he has fully recuperated, the agreement is that he will be returned to the Dominican Republic to face trial. Mallock is particularly interested in this case, since one of his colleagues is Gemoni’s sister. As the novel goes on, we slowly learn the history of Gemoni and Darbier. And we see that the theme of overcoming a monster is woven into the plot.

It’s woven into many plots, actually. And that’s not surprising. That plot type can be very suspenseful and tense. And it’s something that resonates with readers.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Blue Öyster Cult’s Godzilla.

 

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Filed under Cecil Day-Lewis, Honey Brown, Jean-Denis Bruet-Ferreol, Jim Thompson, Nicholas Blake, Sulari Gentill

I Know the End is Comin’ Soon*

murder-warningsAn important part of the appeal of crime fiction is the suspense. Sometimes that comes from not knowing who the killer is, and the sleuth’s search for the truth. It might also come from a ‘cat and mouse’ sort of plot, where the killer and the sleuth face off against each other. There are other ways, too, in which the author can build suspense. Whichever way the author decides to go about it, building suspense is an important part a crime novel.

That’s why it takes skill to create a plot where we’re told at the beginning that there’s going to be a murder. It takes even more when readers are told who the victim will be. A few stories, such as Ruth Rendell’s A Judgement in Stone let the reader in on that information right away. We know from the first sentence of that novel who the killer is (a professional housekeeper named Eunice Parchman). We know who the victims are, too (members of the Coverdale family, Eunice’s employers). Even with this information having been provided, Rendell builds the tension by showing what the characters are like, how they met, and how the murders happened.

There are other ways in which authors handle that tension, too. For instance, in Georges Simenon’s The Saint-Fiacre Affair, the Paris police receive a note warning them that a crime will be committed,
 

‘…at the church of Saint-Fiacre during First Mass.’
 

For Commissaire Jules Maigret, the place has special meaning. It’s a church near Matignon, where he was born and raised. He takes an interest in the note, although his colleagues think it’s a prank, and travels to Matignon, where he attends the service mentioned in the note. Sure enough, after the Mass ends and everyone else leaves, the Countess of Saint-Fiacre is found dead. Maigret knew the victim, so it’s very difficult for him to be objective in this case. Still, he investigates, and finds out who the killer is, and why the note was sent. In this novel, part of the suspense comes from the search for answers. Part comes as Maigret faces his own past.

Nicholas Blake’s (AKA Cecil Day-Lewis) The Beast Must Die begins with the sentence,
 

‘I am going to kill a man.’
 

This comes from the journal of Frank Cairnes, a crime writer who uses the pen name Felix Lane. Cairnes/Lane plans to murder the man who killed his son Martin ‘Martie’ in a hit-and-run incident. He returns to the town he and Martie lived in at the time of the boy’s death, and starts looking for information. Soon enough, he learns that the driver was probably a man named George Rattery. After getting an ‘in’ to the Rattery household, Cairnes puts in motion his plan for revenge. But on the day’s Cairnes has chosen for the crime, Rattery dies of what turns out to be poison. Cairnes is the natural suspect, but he claims he didn’t actually commit the murder. Then, he contacts poet/PI Nigel Strangeways, and asks for his help. According to Cairnes, he planned to kill Rafferty – even tried. But his method was attempted drowning, and the plan fell through. Why, says Cairnes, would he have planned to poison the man he’d already planned to drown? It’s a complicated case, and the suspense in it comes from Strangeways’ efforts to make sense of it.

In Cornell Woolrich’s Night Has a Thousand Eyes, New York Homicide Bureau Detective Tom Shawn meets a young woman named Jean Reid, who’s about to jump off a bridge. He manages to talk her into getting off the bridge and going with him, and soon hears her story. As it turns out, her distress has come from the fact that her father, Harlan Reid, has been told he is going to die on a certain day at midnight. The predication came from Jeremiah Tompkins, a man who considers himself cursed with being able to see the future. Shawn takes an interest in the Reid case, and joins Jean in the effort to prevent her father’s death, if that’s possible.

There’s also Agatha Christie’s A Murder is Announced (You were waiting for this, right, Christie fans?). The novel begins with a personal advertisement in a local newspaper that states,
 

‘A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6:30pm. Friends, please accept this, the only invitation.’  
 

The residents of Chipping Cleghorn can’t resist the invitation, and several of them go to Little Paddocks to see what it’s all about. At the appointed time, a man bursts into the house, demanding that everyone ‘stick ‘em up.’ No-one takes it seriously – until shots are fired into the room, and the man is killed. Even though we know there’ll be a murder, Christie doesn’t make it exactly clear who the victim will be, and certainly not who the killer is. That’s part of what adds to the suspense.

The main focus of James M. Cain’s Double Indemnity is a plot to murder H.S. Nirdlinger. It all starts when Nirdlinger’s insurance representative, Walter Huff, stops by the house to see about a policy renewal. Instead of his client, Huff meets Nirdlinger’s wife, Phyllis. He’s immediately smitten, and it’s not long before he and Phyllis are involved. She convinces him that, with his help, her husband can be killed, and she and Huff can be together and enjoy his insurance payout. Huff goes along with the plan and the murder is duly committed. But as fans of this novella know, that’s only the beginning of the complications in Huff’s life…

And then there’s John Grisham’s A Time to Kill. When ten-year-old Tonya Hailey is brutally raped and left to die, her father, Carl Lee, is understandably devastated and angry. There’s a lot of sympathy for him, too. Tonya’s attackers, Billy Ray Cobb and James Louis ‘Pete’ Willard are promptly arrested. The case gets the attention of Jake Brigance, an attorney whose office is just across the street from the courthouse. Out of interest, he attends the preliminary hearing for the two men, where he sees Hailey (whom he knows). Lee makes some cryptic remarks that give Brigance the idea that he intends to exact revenge on Cobb and Willard. Brigance tries to warn him not to do anything drastic, but Hailey says,
 

‘What would you plan, Jake?’
 

Sure enough, Hailey gets some help from his brother Lester, ambushes Cobb and Willard, and murders them. Then he asks Brigance to defend him. Along with several other elements, the legal and ethical issues add to the suspense of this novel. So does the fact that the stakes turn out to be a lot higher than just one man killing his daughter’s rapists.

In deft hands, even a story where we (and the sleuth) are told there’s going to be a murder can still draw us in. When it’s done well, the fact that we know what probably (or definitely) will happen can add to the tension. Which stories like this have stayed with you?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Creedance Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Cecil Day-Lewis, Cornell Woolrich, Georges Simenon, James M. Cain, John Grisham, Nicholas Blake, Ruth Rendell

Between This Genre, That Genre*

Crossover WritersI’ve started a new manuscript (an occupational hazard for writers). This one’s not a Joel Williams mystery; in fact, it’s not really even a traditional-style whodunit, ‘though it is a crime novel. I’m pleased about the idea, but it’s still in its beginning stages, so we’ll see how it goes. The process of getting started on this story has got me thinking about other writers who make an even bigger leap with their stories than I am with mine.

Some authors have even written in different genres. Or, they’ve written both fiction and non-fiction. Or they’ve written both poetry and crime novels. That sort of ‘branching out’ is risky. After all, many people write what makes them comfortable, and perhaps even get a reputation and a following. Trying something new means building up a new audience, using different skills, and so on. To move on to something different isn’t always easy. But it can result in some excellent work. And it gives the author the chance to experiment and ‘stretch’ creatively.

As you’ll no doubt know, Edgar Allan Poe is often credited with pioneering the detective story. Works such as The Murders in the Rue Morgue and The Purloined Letter are frequently cited as examples of detective fiction. But as you’ll also know, Poe was a master of the horror story, too. The Fall of the House of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum and The Black Cat are just a few examples.

More recently, Alan Orloff has done a similar thing. Under his own name, he’s written Diamonds for the Dead, Killer Routine and Deadly Campaign, all crime novels. Under the name Zak Allen, he’s written The Taste and First Time Killer, both of which are horror novels. You might argue (and you’d have a well-taken point!) that horror novels and crime novels are close cousins. But they do require different sorts of storytelling skills, and they appeal to different audiences. That sort of flexibility takes skill.

Agatha Christie, of course, is renowned for her mysteries. She wrote all sorts of plays, short stories and novels featuring crime and its investigation. And if you’re kind enough to read this blog with any kind of regularity, then you know what a fan I personally am of her crime fiction. But she also wrote novels that explore characters and trace their lives. Under the name of Mary Westmacott, she wrote stories such as Giant’s Bread and A Daughter’s a Daughter, that explore love in its different forms, and provide interesting character studies. In those novels, the focus is on psychology and relationships, rather than on crime. And she’s by no means the only one to write both romance and crime fiction (Am I right, fans of Georgette Heyer?)

More recently, Paddy Richardson has written both well-regarded literary fiction (such as The Company of a Daughter) and well-regarded crime fiction (such as Hunting Blind and Swimming in the Dark). And she’s not only one who’s made that ‘literary crossover.’ Many other literary writers have also written crime fiction.

Some of them have been poets. For instance, Cecil Day-Lewis was the UK’s Poet Laureate. His collections are extremely highly regarded. Under his own name, he also wrote some literary novels. As fans will know, he also wrote a series of crime novels under the name of Nicholas Blake. His sleuth in those stories is Nigel Strangeways, who is, like his creator, a poet. And that’s an interesting example of the ways in which one’s writing in one genre/type of book can influence one’s writing in another.

Isaac Asimov gained a worldwide reputation as a scientist and an author of science textbooks. He was also a skilled writer of science fiction, such as the Foundation series. With his name made, as the saying goes, in that field, Asimov also created a short series of crime novels featuring Elijah ‘Lije’ Baley. Baley is a homicide detective in a futuristic New York, which bears all the hallmarks of Asimov’s background in science fiction. But the stories (The Caves of Steel, The Naked Sun, The Robots of Dawn, and the short story Mirror Image) are distinctly crime fiction.

There’s also Ausma Zehanat Khan, whose novels The Unquiet Dead and The Language of Secrets are crime novels featuring detectives Esa Khattak and Rachel Getty. They take place in contemporary Ontario, and focus on crimes and their investigations. Khan is also writing a fantasy series (at the moment, it’s scheduled as a quadrilogy). The first in this series, Bloodprint, is due to be published in 2017.

Elizabeth Spann Craig has written three mystery series. Under her own name, she writes the Myrtle Clover series; under the name of Riley Adams, she writes the Memphis Barbecue series. She also writes the Southern Quilting Mysteries. Recently, Craig has also ‘branched out’ and written a post-apocalyptic novel that includes zombies. It’s a big change from cosy mysteries to post-apocalypse, but Craig has made it successfully.

Of course, there are plenty of other authors, too, who have used their skills in more than one genre or type of writing. J.K. Rowling, Sara Paretsky, and before them, Charles Dickens, are just some examples. I know that you’ll have lots more in mind to share.

Have you read the same author in two different genres? What have you thought? Can authors do that effectively, so that you, as a reader, enjoy their work? If you’re a writer, have you experimented in different genres, or with a literary-to-genre move (or vice versa). What was it like for you?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Utada Hikaru’s Crossover Interlude.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alan Orloff, Ausma Zehanat Khan, Cecil Day-Lewis, Charles Dickens, Edgar Allan Poe, Elizabeth Spann Craig, Isaac Asimov, J.K. Rowling, Mary Westmacott, Nicholas Blake, Paddy Richardson, Riley Adams, Sara Paretsky, Zak Allen

In The Spotlight: Nicholas Blake’s The Beast Must Die

SpotlightHello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. Under the name of Nicholas Blake, poet Cecil Day-Lewis (Poet Laureate of the UK and the father of acclaimed actor Daniel Day-Lewis) wrote a series of novels featuring poet and amateur sleuth Nigel Strangeways. Many people don’t think this series gets the attention it deserves, so let’s take a look at it today. Let’s turn the spotlight on The Beast Must Die, the fourth in the Strangeways series.

The story begins with the diary of Frank Cairnes, a detective novelist who writes under the name of Felix Lane. Cairnes has been inconsolable since his son Martin ‘Martie’ was killed six months ago by a hit-and-run driver. Now he has a new mission. In fact, the first sentence of the novel expresses it perfectly:
 

‘I am going to kill a man.’
 

He goes on to explain that he has found a new purpose in tracking down the person who killed Martie and murdering him. Cairnes returns to the town he and Martie lived in at the time of the boy’s death, with the aim of finding out who was driving the car that killed his son.

After a bit of sleuthing, he discovers that the driver was most likely a man named George Rattery. He also learns that Rattery was with a starlet named Lena Lawson when Martie was killed. Now that he has that information, Cairnes grows out his beard, takes on his nom de plume, and wangles an introduction to the actress. Before long, they begin a romance; that’s how he learns that, in fact, she is Rattery’s sister-in-law.

With that, Cairnes has an ‘in’ to the Rattery household, and gets to know Rattery a little better. He finally gets his chance at his quarry one afternoon when the two men go sailing together. It turns out, though, that Rattery has already come to suspect that Cairnes wants to kill him; he’s found the diary in which Carines has outlined his plans. As he tells Cairnes, if anything happens to him, Cairnes will immediately be suspected. Cairnes counters with the fact that if the diary falls into the hands of the police, Rattery’s part in Martie’s death will be public. At that stalemate, the two men return to the dock.

Later that day, Rattery dies of what turns out to be poison that’s been put into his regular medicine. Through a mutual friend, Cairnes contacts Nigel Srangeways and asks his help. He claims that he did, indeed, originally plan to kill Rattery, but he didn’t poison the man. And Strangeways is inclined to believe him. After all, why plan to kill him on the boat and put poison in the medicine bottle? And, as Stangeways and an old acquaintance, Inspector Blount, soon find, there are several other suspects. And what’s interesting is, none of them really has a solid alibi.

Rafferty was abusive to both his wife, Violet, and his son, Phil. And he was having an affair with his business partner’s wife. What’s more, he didn’t get along with his sister-in-law, Lena, either. There are other people, too, who might have wanted him dead and would be happy to use Cairnes as a ‘fall guy.’ In the end, and after peeling back the layers of a lot of lies, Strangeways and Blount get to the truth about who killed Rattery and why.

This is a Golden Age whodunit in many ways. There is a set of likely suspects, all of whom are hiding something. There’s also a ‘gentleman detective,’ and a full explanation at the end. There’s also a police inspector who does the official work. And there’s an emphasis on the puzzle. Readers who enjoy classic and Golden Age mysteries will appreciate those aspects of the story. It’s also worth noting that, like many other Golden Age mysteries, this one has very little ‘onstage’ violence. Readers who prefer their crime fiction not to have gore in it will be pleased.

There is also, though, an element of the psychological in this novel. This isn’t purely an intellectual exercise. For one thing, there is an exploration of Rattery’s dysfunctional family (and it is). He and his downtrodden wife Violet live with his mother, who is a true Victorian, obsessed with family reputation. She is a harridan who rules the roost with an iron hand. All of that dysfunction has taken its toll on Phil, too. There’s also psychology involved as Strangeways and Blount consider who might have killed Rattery.

There’s a hint of the ‘had I but known’ element in the story as well. For example, at one point, Strangeways is having a conversation and thinks he sees stirring in the bushes nearby:
 
‘Had he gone to investigate that movement, it is just possible that the course of several people’s lives might have been profoundly altered. But he did not.’
 

That element doesn’t really overtake the story, though, at least not for me.

Except for the diary entries at the beginning of the novel, the story is told mostly from the point of view of Strangeways (in third person), so we get to see his character. He is happily married to Georgia Cavendish, whom fans of the series will remember meeting in Thou Shell of Death, and relies on her for part of his sleuthing. The novel does have some of the sexism of its age, but those who dislike weak and vulnerable women-as-victim characters will appreciate the fact that she is nothing like that. Because he’s a poet, Strangeways is also a reader, so there are a few quotes from what he’s read in the novel. It’s clear he’s a lover of the written word.

In many ways, the story is a very sad one. For one thing, there is the devastation left by Martie Cairnes’ death. Blake did not make light of what it’s like to lose a child. And the solution to the mystery is sad as well. Life is not all right again when the puzzle is solved. I think I can say without giving too much away that several lives really are changed forever, and not for the good. It’s not unrelentingly bleak though, as there are a few moments of wit. At one point, for instance, Strangeways is attacked with a golf putter late one night when he’s gotten a little too close to the truth. When he comes to, he stumbles up the stairs to his hotel room where his wife’s been asleep. She wakes when he comes in:
 
‘‘Hello, darling. Did you have a nice round of golf?’ she said.’
‘Well, as a matter of a fact, no. A bird wonked me with this. Not cricket. Not golf, I mean.’’
 

There are other places, too, where we see that sort of verbal wit.

The Beast Must Die is a Golden-Age whodunit with an element of psychology. It features a ‘gentleman detective’ in the classic tradition, family dynamics issues, and a group of suspects who are all hiding something. But what’s your view? Have you read The Beast Must Die? If you have, what elements do you see in it?

 
 
 

Coming Up On In The Spotlight
 

Monday, 25 January/Tuesday, 26 January – The Merchant’s House – Kate Ellis

Monday 1 February/Tuesday 2 February – Maximum Bob – Elmore Leonard

Monday 8 February/Tuesday 9 February – The Unquiet Dead – Ausma Zehanat Khan

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Filed under Cecil Day-Lewis, The Beast Must Die